Something Rotten
by shipperfey
Summary: Brennan gets involved in an international plot for power, and it’s up to Booth to rescue her. NOW COMPLETE!
1. NotesPrologue

**Title:** **Something Rotten**  
**Author:** Alice J. Foster (a.k.a. shipperfey)

**Summary:** Brennan gets involved in an international plot for power, and it's up to Booth to rescue her.

**Category:** UST, friendship, adventure.

**Spoilers: **Season 2

**Characters: **Booth, Brennan, OC, and special appearances by the squints.

**Rating:** R for torture, violence, language and mature themes.

**Warnings:** nothing that hasn't been mentioned in the rating.

**Started: **09/24/07  
**Finished:** 09/30/07

**Archiving:** If you want it, take it. It'll soon be archived at my website at http://obsessionscorner. This story is made of 13 chapters (plus prologue and epilogue). It will also have a sequel at least. The subsequent story will contain more Booth/Brennan; this one acts more like a setup for the shippy stuff.

**Thanks to:** n0mdeplum and butterfllykiss for being my lovely betas.

**Feedback: **The best medicine.

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the characters and situations you recognize, and I own the ones you don't.

--------------------------------

Prologue

Agent Seeley Booth was almost bouncing as he walked from his car to the Jeffersonian entrance. He tried not to fidget impatiently as he reached for his access card – it was almost childish how much he'd missed this place.

In the three months that Bones had been gone, he'd only stepped in the Institution once – not that he disliked the Squints, but Zack had a way of getting under his skin and it was just easier to deal with his least favorite Forensic Anthropologist via phone and e-mail. Zack was a good kid, but where arguing with Bones had helped Booth's crime-solving process, arguing with Zack always left him emotionally drained and slightly guilty for making the kid so uncomfortable.

"Angela!" Booth yelled when he saw the familiar figure.

"Booth! Thank god you're here," Angela looked slightly nervous, which was a disturbing look for Angela.

"What's going on? Is Bones back?" he said, wondering if the pathetic and needy twinge in his voice was audible to the others. He briefly wondered how he could keep Bones from ever going on vacation again. Even if -- _especially_ if, her idea of vacation was to identify remains in politically unstable countries in Europe that no one had heard of, followed by a short book tour in the same continent.

Angela said nothing, just grabbed his arm and pulled him towards Hodgins' lab area, frantically looking behind them.

"You know, Angela, I think you've been spending too much time around your significant other, you're becoming paranoid," Booth quipped. Not long after, he winced – even his usual quips' quality had degraded over the past three months. This really sucked.

Booth was forced into Hodgins' lab by Angela with more force than he thought possible from the young artist. Inside, the three squints were looking at him with an odd mixture of emotions on their faces. For someone so well trained at reading people, Booth was coming up frustratingly empty.

"What's going on? Did—did something happen to Bones?" He asked, concern blurring his thoughts and vision.

Angela nodded slowly. "Yes," and he must've looked quite distressed because she instantly reached for his arm, "it's okay, she's not hurt."

Letting out a breath he felt like he'd been holding forever, Booth put both hands on a metal table before looking at the others again. "Ok, someone please tell me what's going on before I shoot one of you."

Zack, always the most susceptible squint, took a deep breath. "We have instructions for you. From Dr. Brennan."

Booth frowned. "What kind of instructions?"

"The secretive kind," Hodgins offered.

"The kind that could get you fired, Booth," Angela added, her face showing even more compassion than usual. "Instructions that could get us all arrested – or worse."

He could feel his frown getting deeper. "Ok, let me get this straight: Bones has called you from Leechtown—"

"Liechtenstein," Zack corrected him.

"—wherever-- asking you, to give me some mysterious and secretive set of instructions to be relayed to me, which could get all of us fired, arrested or worse?"

"Well, _you_ fired. But yeah," Angela agreed. "That sums it up. I'm scared, but she said I wouldn't be of any help. You on the other hand... She needs you, Booth." Angela's trust was clear and he wondered how much of it was a reflection of Bones's trust in him.

When it came to Brennan in danger, he would do anything.

_She was in danger…_ Something inside his chest tightened, and Booth carefully examined the three again, noticing for the first time a manila folder that Hodgins was clutching close to his chest. Finally, he nodded and reached for the folder.

"Have you been to Leesburg Airport?" Hodgins asked, handing Booth the folder but not letting it go just yet.

Booth shook his head.

"It's a private airport in Leesburg, Virginia. There's a Cantilever plane there waiting for you," Hodgins finally let go of the folder, inside were two pictures. "These are the pilot and co-pilot. No one else is authorized to be on that flight, if you see anyone else, take them out. When the pilot asks your name, reply 'James James Bond.' "

"Bren's idea," Angela explained off Booth's strange look.

Paranoia was only fun as a spectator sport. "Ok, ok—I need someone who is not out of their mind to explain to me what the hell is going on."

"We can't," Zack added, almost petulantly. "Dr. Brennan was very adamant about the confidentiality of this scheme."

"You trust her, right?" Angela asked, though she already knew the answer.

Booth sighed.

He hated secret missions.


	2. Chapter 1

--------------------------------

Chapter 1

Private jets were definitely the best way to travel, but halfway through the - Booth glanced at his watch – seven hour trip, he was starting to get antsy. By the time he felt the plane start to descend, he thanked God for small miracles.

It had to be some kind of squint joke, because there was no way Bones could be in this kind of trouble without him knowing – except, Zack was not a good liar, which definitely meant something fishy was going on. And somehow, Brennan was caught in the middle of it, possibly in grave danger.

"Welcome to Switzerland," the Pilot said as the plane finally touched ground again.

As Booth knocked on the door of Helen Badrutt's suite of the Badrutt's Palace Hotel, he held his breath. Bones might be rich - however this seemed not just expensive, but extremely out of character. The hotel she was staying in was a fucking palace, for god's sake. The damn rooms had _names_ instead of numbers.

When she finally opened the door, he was taken aback for a second – she looked so… different. He wondered how it could have been just three months since he'd last seen her. Before he could notice just _what_ was different about her, he found himself pulled in a decidedly non-guy hug. It was more a needy, desperate hug - the type of hug Bones didn't request or accept very often.

He allowed himself to feel her body pressing against him, noticing she had lost some weight; but he pulled back when he found himself sniffing her hair, before he crossed any of those imaginary lines. He followed her into the living room area of the gigantic suite.

To say the place reeked of money was not an exaggeration. The daily rate of the hotel was probably close to an entire paycheck of his. His hands reached for a glass miniature statue sitting on the bureau against the wall. _Pricey_, he deduced and carefully set it back in place.

"Ok, Bones, you better tell me exactly what the hell—" he stopped when he heard a familiar sound. Except it was a familiar sound he hadn't heard in years. "Bones, is that a baby crying?"

Her only reply was: "You should sit down, Booth."


	3. Chapter 2

--------------------------------

Chapter 2

Temperance Brennan had never felt this tired in her life; or so relieved. She hadn't allowed herself to miss any of her friends during her 'vacation,' but she had to admit that opening that door and seeing her partner there had almost reduced her to tears.

She was being irrational, she'd told herself as she'd hugged Booth, but the past forty-eight hours had been too much. Even for her.

Walking silently to the bedroom of the suite, she awkwardly reached for the very unhappy infant in the makeshift crib that sat next to the king-sized bed. It was still strange and uncomfortable, holding something alive so close, but the fact that the crying stopped right away made her feel better. In the past, any time a child cried in her presence, she would feel annoyed; now she only felt guilt when it began and happiness when she could make this child feel safer.

She started to really dread going back to the living room and facing Booth, but the sound of him clearing his throat behind her told her she wasn't going to have to. The look of shock on his face was almost more than she could take.

"Bones, don't look now, but I think you are holding an infant."

It was lamer than usual for him, but she still smiled nonetheless. "Is that what this is?" She joked back, taking a seat on the bed. To her surprise, Booth followed after a minute or two, sitting next to her. "Thank you," she said in a whisper.

"You're welcome," Booth said without hesitation, before adding, "but I should probably know what you're thankful for. And while you're at it, please explain why I'm in Switzerland while you hold a baby."

"I named her Hannah," she explained first, hoping he wouldn't mind the _non sequitur_. "Thank you for coming, Booth. You are here because I need your help. _We_ need your help." She cradled the baby, moving Hannah again - unsure what was more comfortable. Brennan just needed to look into those sharp blue eyes to reassure herself that she wasn't going crazy, that turning her life upside down for this orphan was worth it.

"The kind of help that can land us both in a federal prison?"

She nodded. "Or worse," she added with a weak smile. Going into exposition mode, she took a deep breath: "I was called to Liechtenstein to authenticate the remains of eighteen members of the royal family and fifteen servants."

"I remember something in the news about that. Burnt castle, entire royal family turned into barbecue – something about a possible coup by the locals," Booth related to her, obviously still confused. "Apparently the crime scene was so grim that even CNN refused to broadcast it."

She nodded, not wanting to discuss just how grim the scene had been, even for her experienced eyes. "Liechtenstein is a very small country, the size of D.C.," she started to explain, "not many people in the whole country, more companies than people - and enough GNP to fund most revolutions around the world."

"Money's always a good motive," Booth noted.

She nodded. "I first went there for my doctorate thesis, spent five months there just identifying a lot of remains from the Anschluss and World War I. I—" she stuttered in an out-of-character tone, "I made a good friend there, Dr. Oloff; he was a professor who was very close to the Royal Family, always spouting these theories about the soviets and every other political faction out there; Jack reminds me of him…" she felt a tear slipping down her face. "He was the one who called me when the fire happened. It was so awful, Booth— thirty-two bodies to identify, and—I just… I've seen more skeletons that suffered worse fates, but I knew these people."

She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and he pulled away as quickly as he had approached her. From the corner of her eye she saw him turning to look at the mountain of papers behind them on the bed.

Her breath caught in her throat, unsure of how to continue telling him of the horror she'd been through for the past eleven weeks. She watched as his hand reached for a copy of _The Times_ that announced the death of thirteen more acquaintances of the former Liechtensteiner Royal Family, bringing the death total to eighty over the past fourteen weeks.

"Uh, Bones… it says here that a forensic anthropologist Dr. Johannsen of the Swiss something-or-other was killed after he positively identified the members of the Royal Family. A _bomb_ killed him," there was concern with a bit of panic in his voice.

She wasn't very good in categorizing his moods, but she could recognize that something had definitely clicked in his mind as he read the entire article. Bones bit her lip as she nodded. Pressing her cheek to Hannah's head, she was careful to avoid the anterior fontanel. "Dr. Johannsen and I both worked on identifying the remains, but they kept my name a secret to protect the Jeffersonian's reputation and me." She took a deep breath, because she was about to reveal something to her partner that could forever ruin his trust. "We forged reports, told the press that all the members of the Royal Family were dead, but they weren't, Booth. I wanted to tell the truth at first, but—she's just a baby, Booth. And now she's all alone."


	4. Chapter 3

--------------------------------

Chapter 3

Booth took a deep breath, finally getting a good look at the puzzle. "She's part of the Leechtainer Royal Family?" He asked as he pointed at the now-sleeping child.

"Liechtensteiner," she corrected him softly before nodding slowly. "Dr. Oloff's daughter, Hannah, was the chief babysitter of Princess Gallen Isabella Stephania of Liechtenstein, the daughter of the youngest son of the Regent Prince. And as far as the entire world is concerned, this child was killed in that fire."

"Except she didn't, really…" Booth added, voicing his thoughts out loud as he tried to figure everything out.

"No, she didn't. Hannah locked herself with the baby inside the family art gallery, which was fireproof. The gallery, however, was designed to save the art from fires, but not people. They had both been unconscious for thirteen hours due to lack of oxygen when they were found, three days after the castle was raided. Hannah's father found them, and hid the two at a Swiss hospital near the border; only Dr. Johansenn and I were told of the fate of the youngest member of the Royal Family. Three days later, Hannah was kidnapped from her hospital bed, and her remains were found in Austria five days later."

"Let me guess, burnt to a crisp?" Booth stood up and started pacing; he wasn't good at passive storytelling, so he started sifting through the pictures he saw on the bed until finding a picture marked Hannah.

"Yes, seems to be the exact same M.O., same type of fire, except I can't tell for sure until Hodgins looks at the evidence," she said as she pushed a vial with carbonized—something or other at him. "A small network was setup to hide and care for this child," and now all of them were dead, Bones added silently and he felt a shiver down his spine.

"Bones, what did you get yourself into?" Booth's voice was not accusing, just extremely concerned.

"I have been calling the baby Hannah, because Gallen is too conspicuous. Hannah Oloff was the first one to give her life to save this child. She was held and tortured for five days, Booth." Her voice was filled with emotion, and that was so rare for her that he felt something in him breaking, imagining what she and Hannah Oloff had been through.

He saw an autopsy report with the words 'indicator of torture' underlined several times, along with big red circles that he could recognize from the pictures of the remains. Then he saw a few more vials on the bed, as well as handwritten notes, typed reports, pictures, newspapers, it was all overwhelming…

… and unorganized. Which was very, very uncharacteristic, considering that this was a woman that carefully catalogued even the smallest of human remains in drawers labeled accordingly. "How—how long have you had her?"

She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. "Two—no, four days, I think. Different time zones, and—I haven't really slept much, Booth. I am afraid someone will come for her again, and I won't be able to protect her."

He was tempted to ask her just how different the time zones were, to account for a two-day discrepancy in her answer, but he decided against it, holding out his arms instead.

She stared at him confused, "What? Is this another guy hug moment?"

Booth snorted, "No, the baby. Hand me the baby."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I made a motion," he repeated it for her sake. "This, in parent-speak, means hand over the now sleeping child."

Bones looked at the baby first and seemed to realize Hannah had indeed fallen asleep again. Then she glanced back at him, then back at the baby before finally surrendering the sleeping infant. Booth carefully picked up Hannah, before placing her back on the bassinet that was too small to comfortably hold a six-month-old infant. "It's too small, I know," Bones said, still having not moved since handing him the baby. "I didn't know what to get, and this was the only thing the hotel had—is it really bad? Am I endangering her?" Her voice was rising with her fear and newfound paranoia, so Booth was forced to hold his finger to his mouth.

"Shh, you're going to wake her up. You're exhausted, suffering from sleep deprivation," he pointed out as he moved to the head of the enormous bed, pulling back the covers. Holding them up, he stared at his partner. "This, by the way, is the human signal for 'get in the giant bed' if you don't recognize it."

"I can't sleep, I still haven't told you everything," she protested even as she moved, passing under his arm.

"Bones, your storytelling right now is as accurate and useful as Parker on a sugar high the day after Halloween. Get some sleep, I'll go through this evidence and get some feel for this whole ordeal, and you can finish telling me the rest in the morning."

Bones' eyes closed as soon as her head hit the pillow. "No phones," she muttered, already dozing off. He covered her and started to pick up all the items on the bed. A smile crossed his face as he heard an instant snore coming from Bones, realizing it wasn't entirely unattractive. He'd seen her dozing off in cars and planes, but it was rare. And he had definitely never seen her this tired, or this concerned.

As he finished picking up the items, he stopped to glance at the other sleeping form in the room. She was a gorgeous baby, thin strands of blonde hair so light you could barely see them unless the light hit them just right. And there was just something about this child that he appreciated, even though he didn't comprehend it—he had seen Bones react to children in many ways, from curiosity to concern. He had also noticed that the concern seemed to be exclusive to orphans and foster kids; he didn't need a psychology degree to recognize that Bones tended to align more closely to those children because she identified with them. But actually take temporary custody of one?

Booth sighed, eager to get some answers. He was glad that Hodgins had commandeered his cell phone, because he was fighting an urge to call someone, anyone who could help him make sense of this mess.


	5. Chapter 4

**Thank you to everyone who's been kind enough to read and review! hug**

--------------------------------

Chapter 4

Bones felt… rested. Yes, she still felt like she'd been running through half a continent with a secret, clandestine baby that she had received without a set of instructions—she would've even settled for a pamphlet. She could write about child-rearing customs in at least a hundred different societies, but she had absolutely no clue when it came to the real thing.

Glancing towards the window, she realized it was high morning already. It wasn't until she glanced to the spot where the bassinet had been that she began to panic. "Booth!" She shouted, throwing the covers off her lower body, her mind kicking into overdrive. Bones had been prepared to find a nightmarishly scene in the living room of the suite, but instead she found Booth looking at her from the couch, as BBC played on the TV. And Hannah—Hannah was seemingly asleep on his chest. _Sorry_, she mouthed to her partner as he sat up, moving the baby to the bassinet that was now next to the couch.

"Didn't mean to scare you, but she started fussing around three last night, so I brought her out here," he explained, looking upset at having scared her.

She shook her head to calm him, "It's okay," she replied breathlessly.  
"Of course you brought her out here." It was an irrational fear, because obviously if anyone had come for her, they wouldn't have just left her guardian alone, asleep on the bed. "I am sorry I overreacted."

Booth smiled at her reassuringly, in a way that suggested he understood what she was going through, but she had no idea how that was possible. No one could know what she was going through, because there was just no way people would continuously bring children into the world and then live in constant fear for their safety. It was—it was stupid, counter-productive and could _not_ be healthy. Even if they didn't have some shadow group chasing them, there were still wars, disease, serial killers, famine… it was all overwhelming.

She met Booth's eyes carefully, holding his curious and inquisitive gaze for a long time before moving her eyes to the small work area he had setup. Her pictures and reports were all laid out on the main table; there would be time to look at those again, but right now she just wanted a glass of water.

The suite had a full-size refrigerator, completely stocked. Next to it, she saw the now familiar can of formula amid a small mess. Glancing up unassumingly at her partner, he shrugged and stuck his hands down his pockets.

"Sorry, making formula at three in the morning is always messy, especially if the instructions are in another language… and I still have no idea what an mL is, although I am sure I learned it at some point in school. My measurements might have been a little off, but I got no complaints for the starving eating machine." He jabbed a thumb in Hannah's direction.

Brennan smiled as she swept the formula remnants to the floor with one hand, reaching for a glass from the counter with the other. "It's a milliliter, or one-thousandth of a liter," she explained.

"And that's why you have the bigger brain," Booth joked, moving towards the table of evidence.

"Actually, our brains are relatively the same size, but I get your point and I thank you for your compliment."

His full-blown smile was more refreshing than the cold water she was drinking, and she finally moved to join him at the table. He had arranged everything in a sort of a timeline so far, except for the big pile at the top of unsorted items. At the very end of the desk was her laptop, with the genealogic tree of the Royal Family loaded. A tourism pamphlet had a list of possible suspects written in his careless handwriting.

She started to silently re-organize his mini-timeline, hoping that it would help him try to get a better idea of what she had been through.

He watched her, hovering at times but mostly reading the stuff she would add to the timeline. When she was done, he was still a few days behind her, and she just sat down and watched his face as more and more pieces of the puzzle merged together. When he was finally done, he glanced down at her, fear in his features. "Okay, I get most of what happened, Bones – now how are we going to get this child out of this whole mess?"


	6. Chapter 5

--------------------------------

Chapter 5

Before Bones could explain to him her plan, Hannah began to cry. He hovered above them as he watched his partner change a diaper – and he suddenly wished he had a camera, because this was the weirdest moment of his whole life. She was always so out of her element where children were concerned; so _un_Bones. And here she was, apparently having survived days on her own with a fugitive Royal infant.

Her diaper-changing abilities were not one-hundred percent yet, but he could see in her face that where a baby was concerned, this was probably _the_ most comfortable activity for Bones. It was simple, mundane, required very small emotional involvement and had almost no variables. He could almost see her tension leaving her body as she replaced the dirty diaper with a clean one.

Leave it to Bones to find one of the most disgusting tasks in the world calming.

He reached for the expensive-looking throw on the couch, throwing it on the floor between the couch and the table. He made the same motion with his arms that he'd done the night before. Bones was always a fast learner, because as soon as she was done fastening the onesie, she handed the now content baby to him. He deposited the child on the rug, and content with Hannah's sitting position and back support, he stepped away.

"Any toys?" he asked Bones, but her confused look gave him a negative answer at first. "You know, any child toys, like a truck or a bear, something to keep her busy while we finish working?"

"Oh!" Bones exclaimed, running to the bedroom and bringing out one of those bright yellow chewing toys for babies, with no discernible shape but rough edges to help with teething. She tossed it to him, like it was a flashlight or some piece of evidence, and he handed it to the alert baby that clutched to it with both hands, immediately jabbing it into her mouth.

"Good girl," he said as he watched the deep concentration of the child.

Bones stared at him for several seconds, and he figured she had no idea what positive reinforcement was, and he was not about to discuss the psychology of babies to her.

"Ok, she's entertained," he offered.

He watched as she studied the small environment he had created with just a throw and a teething ring, and he could tell she was analyzing it and categorizing it for future reference.

Booth finally interrupted her studious stance after three minutes. "So, what's the plan Bones?"

"She's just a baby, Booth. And now she's all alone in this world; everyone who has ever cared for her is dead," there was so much emotion in her voice. "For months my last thought before going to bed has been her safety. I didn't want to admit to myself that the reason why I was so concerned was beyond the fact that I know what she's going through."

"There's no shame in connecting to another human being, Bones," he tried to reassure her.

"I know that now, Booth - which is why I need you to help me get her back to the U.S. as my adoptive daughter," she blurted out, surprising him. "And I need you to do it without raising any red flags."


	7. Chapter 6

--------------------------------

Chapter 6

"Bones--" he started to say, and even she could detect the high level of surprise and incredulity in his voice. "You are talking about becoming a parent—I thought this was one of those things you're so adamant against, you know? Like marriage, and plastic surgery, and animal testing…" he trailed off.

She maintained her resolve, even though she was starting to break apart within; there were several reasons why Booth had been her logical choice when she needed help. But the one she was still refusing to admit was that she knew if she was out of her mind, he would be the one to shake her back into reality.

"I supposed this is the part that could get us fired and arrested, right?" He still sounded surprised and even terrified.

She nodded, feeling extremely guilty about asking him for help in the first place.

"Temperance…"

Brennan winced, knowing the use of her first name could not be a good sign.

"…are you sure? I hope you don't take this the wrong way because if you are sure, I stand by you one-hundred percent... But you and children don't exactly mesh. I mean, that doesn't mean you would make a bad parent, but it means you'd have a long way to go ahead of you."

His tone was careful, even caring, but it was definitely not helping her own internal doubts.

She looked up when she felt his hand on her elbow, leading her to the couch. She took her seat and then he surprised her by kneeling in front of her. "If you have thought this through, and you want to do it, I won't question your choice."

It was an offer and a threat, though she was sure Booth only thought of it as friendly advice.

"Bones? Say something," he begged.

"I—I'm sorry. I thought I was sure, but I don't know Booth. I didn't really have time to think this through, you know? I came here, I found the truth, and I saw this little person who needed me. I reacted, that's it. I've been in charge of her for five days and I'm already acting irrationally." She tasted her own tears.

"You might not be able to act rationally at the moment, but it doesn't make you an unqualified parent, Bones. On the contrary, you answered to an anthropological imperative." He was stealing her own words. "You reacted by taking into consideration the best for this child."

"Am I?" She asked, wiping tears away with her hand. "Am I the best for her?"

"Think about it, Bones. Whether she stays here or goes home with you, no one can know who she is; which means if she stays, she'll likely go to an orphanage and spend years, maybe her whole life without a family."

"Don't do that," she whined. A minute ago he was questioning her withering decision to adopt this child, now he was pushing her buttons towards doing it. "But you are right, if I walk away, I won't forgive myself. I'll be doing the same as my parents, but worse."

She hugged him, with the same desperation of their hug the night before. When the hug finally broke, she turned to see a pair of sharp blue eyes staring at Booth from the floor. Then a toothless smile broke, followed by a giggle. "Ok, now you need to keep her, Bones," he joked, and she knew his infallible sense of perception had recognized her newfound resolution.

"Shut up, Booth," she joked back, wiping her face and nose with her hand. "I do think she likes you," she added, seeing how Hannah kept staring at him.

"I'm a likeable guy." He stood and moved towards their table of evidence, reaching for the sample vials. "I am going out, Bones. I can mail these to the Jeffersonian and I need to make some calls."

She started to object but he held his hand up.

"Relax. I was a sniper, remember? I am very good at being somewhere without being detected. So relax and sit back. Oh, and give me your wallet, I need some money. Hodgins took my credit cards."


	8. Chapter 7

--------------------------------

Chapter 7

Booth finished packing – having arrived pretty empty handed, he was now leaving with a full duffel bag, packed with a couple changes of clothes for him and for Hannah as well as a lot of formula and other baby items. The plan was simple but tricky; so far, they had no reason to believe the bad guys knew Bones had taken custody of Hannah. Just in case someone had any suspicions, Bones would finish the two last stops on her book tour _sans_ Hannah, before _rendezvous_ing with Booth and Hannah in Lugano. If, at that point, their plan went without a hitch, then they were likely safe. A fabricated story about how she fell in love with a Swiss orphan would be fed to anyone who was interested in the life and career of Dr. Temperance Brennan.

"Are you sure about this guy?" she asked him as he continued to pack.

Booth nodded. "This guy is good. He saved my hide more than once during Bosnia and then Kosovo, okay? When you are special ops, if you think you might be made, you can't just call up your superiors. Ulrich is the best at making people disappear," he promised, then added: "He gives them new permanent or temporary identities. I called him, and he can draft some adoption papers that even your squints would think were legit. We'll go back home, and for all intents and purposes, she'll be Hannah Brennan."

Bones scoffed. "Great, she'll get to take part in the big lie that is the Brennan family." Her disdain was followed by a shrug. "Seems fitting."

He smiled at her, because he knew she was partly joking. Also, as much as she might hate psychology, he knew she had to be coming to terms with her parents' past or she wouldn't be joking.

"I'll take Hannah down, get started on the process, and make contact with Ulrich. You'll meet us in five days. Everything will be alright," he comforted, refusing the urge to caress the worry line off her face. Being out of their element was making it harder for him to ignore the evil, needy voice in the back of his brain.

She nodded but he could see she was still tense.

"Are you all packed?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks for watching her while I did it. Are you sure you will be ok by yourself with her all weekend?"

He cocked his head at her. "I'll be fine, Bones. She's six months old, right now, not crawling, not teething. So far she hasn't been cranky or crampy, and I think her middle-of-the-night feedings are a temporary reaction to stress. Other than that, she sleeps for hours at a time. This is the easy part, okay? I've done this before; I can handle a couple of days on my own." Hannah gurgled her approval from the couch, and Booth grinned at her. "See? She agrees."

Bones pouted, but the disapproval and petulance in her eyes melted when Hannah's arm reached out, motioning her desire to be picked up.

Booth stopped packing to watch their interaction. He felt something in his chest tighten when his partner smiled widely at the child; he recognized the bond already forming and he acknowledged what he'd known since he arrived at the hotel suite – this child was now a part of Brennan, which meant he would do anything necessary to keep both of them safe.


	9. Chapter 8

--------------------------------

Chapter 8

Brennan got out of the shower and wrapped up in a fluffy hotel bathrobe. It was so comfortable that she considered stealing it; her ethics were the only thing that kept her from stuffing it in her suitcase with the rest of her things.

After working with Booth for so long, she was starting to have selective hearing when it came to mores and regulations – or maybe it was a genetic predisposition, a gift from Max Keenan and his life of lies. She wondered what she would tell Hannah about her family—families' pasts. She told herself she would never lie: this child would get the absolute truth from her when she wanted to hear it…

_… if they both survived long enough._

She had to admit she hadn't really thought this whole thing through – being a mother wasn't something she'd ever envisioned herself doing. She didn't _dislike_ children, and on a subconscious level she understood she needed to protect them to ensure the propagation of the species. In case of disaster, women and children first; it wasn't a chauvinistic statement, it was the human race asserting its own survival.

Motherhood had never been a dream of hers; even before her parents' disappearance, she had no expectations towards having children. Their abandonment just reassured her she did not belong in the structural idea of a family.

Taking in Hannah was different though, she told herself. This was a child in danger. She could leave Hannah in the hands of the Swiss adoption system, but it was too dangerous for her to remain in such proximity to Liechtenstein; plus Brennan was convinced no one would be able to protect the child without knowing her true identity.

And anyone who knew would be in mortal danger.

A skyline view of Prague from her bedroom window told her it was dusk, and she knew her motorist would arrive soon to take her to the airport. Rome was next, and it made her think of Angela for some reason. The book tour was going fantastic, and she would probably feel more proud if her mind wasn't so preoccupied.

She rummaged in her suitcase, smiling as she found the toy pig that Booth had given her so long ago. She didn't know why she carried it with her whenever she was out of town, but it was just something she'd started doing. Cursing their separation, she vowed to re-gift the toy to Hannah in three days when she arrived in Lugano.

Dressing herself was simple enough, and she was glad to see that the bags from under her eyes were almost gone. She had just finished packing when she heard a knock on the door; a glance at the nightstand alarm clock told her that the motorist was about five minutes early.

She hauled her suitcase into the living room, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at full attention; she tried to justify the gut feeling as a manifestation of her rational fears regarding her current situation.

_Something stinks_, Booth's voice warned her in her mind. Grabbing a vase from a center table, she tip-toed to the hotel room door. She could see shadows moving in the half inch space between the door and the floor. _Two separate shadows, two individuals_.

She glanced at the windows, knowing full well that she was on the thirtieth floor, and they were not an acceptable means of escape.

_Call security!_

She reached for the phone on the other end of the room. The sound of the dial tone was pierced by the sound of a bullet, quickly followed by the sound of the hotel door giving in to force, probably a kick. She turned towards her attackers, vase in hand.

Without second-guessing herself, she charged towards them, hitting one with the vase and elbow punching the other. The one hit by the vase recovered faster, tripping her and throwing her to the ground. A knee was pressed onto her back, and she felt her lower right floating rib giving under the pressure. Ignoring the pain as best as she could, her teeth lunged for the arm in front of her that tried to gag her; blood filled her mouth and she spit it out, feeling a second knee join the first.

She backwards kicked the assailant on top of her, but her position didn't allow her for much force or angle. She felt blood sliding down her back, probably from her short-lived mandibular attack; gathering all her strength, she tried to headbutt the guy on top of her, but she only succeeding in getting a good look at the incoming blow to her head before losing consciousness.


	10. Chapter 9

--------------------------------

Chapter 9

Booth paced frantically around the hotel room, replaying the conversation he'd had twenty-six hours before.

_"Agent Booth?" The voice was so scared that Booth couldn't identify the gender of the caller at first._

_Something had happened to her. "Who is this?"_

_"J—J—John Scryer, Tem— " deep breath, "Temperance Brennan's new publicist. She gave me this number and asked me to call you if anything happened to her."_

_"Where is she? What happened?"_

_"I'm not… I don't know. I got a call an hour ago, the driver who was supposed to pick her up said she wasn't at her hotel room. I went up to check, and—I'm sorry, I'm not good at this." Another deep breath. "I went up to her hotel room, the hotel security was there already. They said that someone broke in, something about a shot having been heard by someone in the room below or something, I couldn't—,"_

_"Listen to me, Scryer. I need you to sit down and focus. Do they know where she was taken?"_

_"I don't think so; they said they were calling the local police, and they were sending samples to Interpol."_

_"Samples of what?"_

_"I'm not sure. I think blood, Agent Booth."_

He had called every single person he had known in his military or law enforcement life that might have been able to tell him something – anything. Only thing he was able to find out was that Interpol had been called in because of Brennan's association with so many high-profile international organizations that any attempt on her life on foreign soil, was cause for the International Police Organization to get involved. He'd briefly wondered just how many times the Interpol had had to intervene on Bones' behalf – there was just so much about her past that he did not know.

The phone rang but Booth resisted the temptation of lunging for it, waiting until Ulrich at the door to his room confirmed that he was indeed the intended recipient of the call.

"Hello," he said as he picked up the phone. It felt unreal to answer the phone without stating his name, but although Ulrich promised him that the line was secure, he was currently inclined to find out who was on the other end before identifying himself.

"Oh my god, Booth! Are you okay?"

"Angela!" Booth said, never having felt so relieved to hear the woman's voice. "Did you find anything?" He asked anxiously, even though he knew it had only been a few hours since he'd had Ulrich fax all of Brennan's information on the arsons and victims to the Jeffersonian.

"Hold on, let me put you on speaker," something clicked and the background noise became foreground noise. "Ok, we contacted Interpol and they were as uncooperative as the FBI would be. But I was able to get out of them that the blood found in the scene was AB, which means it wasn't Bren's. They are waiting on DNA testing to run it through their database, but soon after they told me that, they clamped up again."

_Not her blood, not her blood_. He sighed with relief. "What else?"

"We've analyzed the samples you sent," Hodgins informed him. "The fires were started with nitrogen and chlorine trifluoride, as well as an isotope of—"

"Hodgins! Don't tell me how you got to your conclusion; just tell me what the conclusion is. I trust you guys, and I don't have time to get you guys to explain things twice for my sake."

"We found out where Hannah Oloff was held and killed. The particulates suggest Drave River, and the chemical components of the fuel, accelerant and oxidizing agents are commonly used by a chemical plant outside of Lienz, Austria, that was officially shut down in '93. They are owned by Oinlew Enterprises," Hodgins said with the same emphasis he would've used to name JFK's true assassin.

"Who?" Booth asked, pulling out his short list of probable suspects.

"I had to dig quite deep to find the ties, but Oinlew is a subsidiary of the Drau Group – the company with the highest gross profit of Liechtenstein. These guys are present in every industry you can think of: pharmaceutics, technology, media. Oinlew was their mercenary company; the Kenyan government has been trying to cite them for the drug trials in Africa that killed fifteen thousand but they haven't been able to. The new tax laws wouldn't just affect how much money would be given to the government, but it would also allow them to open formal inquiry task force on Drau and others."

"Seems like we have our motive," Booth sighed. "Now tell me where this chemical plant is."

Booth wrote down the coordinates that Hodgins gave him. Hannah chose that moment to start crying, probably sensing his tension, and he reached for her while cradling the phone on his shoulder.

"Is that her?" Angela asked softly.

"Yeah," Booth admitted, still feeling paranoid. "I have to go, guys, I'll call you when I find her, okay?"

"Good luck," the three squints got out before the call was disconnected.

Booth patted Hannah's back, thinking of the other Hannah who'd practically given her life to save this child's, and whole death had also given them the answers they needed to try to save Bones.

xxxx

Booth checked the two 9mm Glocks that Ulrich had arranged for him; sixty rounds between the four magazines. A pessimistic voice in his head wondered if it was going to be enough; wondered how many people he would have to shoot and kill in order to save Temperance.

He placed the guns in the double-shouldered holster, then the extra magazines. Last but not least, he glanced at Hannah, who had stopped crying but was now staring at him with wide eyes. He briefly tried to remember just how many days the infant had spent with Bones, because the glare she was giving him was a lot like the ones he would get after a particularly irrational conjecture.

He heard a knock on the door and turned expecting to find Ulrich, but who he saw there surprised him.

Actually, that was an understatement; had the Pope himself shown up, Booth wouldn't have been more surprised.

"Max!?"

"Hi there," Max Keenan's smile was broad, even though his eyes betrayed his concern.

Behind the older man, Booth recognized someone else. "Russ?"

"Hey, man," Russ waved.

"What are you guys doing here?"

Max ignored his question, moving towards Hannah. "Is this her? She's gorgeous," he started to reach for the infant but something in Booth's eyes must've told him something, because he stopped, as if asking for permission.

Booth didn't realize how possessive he'd been feeling towards Hannah, and he was too surprised about the impromptu family reunion to deny Max anything. The older man reached for the baby with the familiarity of a family man.

Russ smirked at Booth, "Good thing you were here, man."

Booth shrugged. "How did you guys find us?"

"Ulrich contacted me after you called him for the adoption papers; recognized Tempe's name… he helped us all those years ago, you know? He was living in Chicago back then, gave us our new names. He liked Joy—Temperance so much; she reminded him of his own daughter who died in Stalingrad - before it became Volgograd or whatever the hell it's called these days. He moved to Lugano after the wall fell, but we stayed in touch, mostly out of necessity." Max added sheepishly. "When we heard about Tempe, we figured you'd need some backup."

Booth felt his mind begin a terrible battle; he was relieved. Max was an outlaw, but he was also a loving father. He knew the ins and outs of staying under the radar, and he would have no problem with getting things done in order to save his daughter.

"Someone needs to stay here and guard Hannah," Booth said as a manner of acceptance of Max's offer of help.

"I'll do it," Russ volunteered.

Booth clamped his open hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Thank you." Then to Max, he added, "I know where she is. It's about three-hundred miles away from here; should take us about five hours in Max's car," Booth estimated. He missed his FBI-issued SUV.

Damn Europeans and their small environmentally-conscientious cars.


	11. Chapter 10

**Note: Thanks for the feedback and support so far :) This journey is nearing its end, I should be posting the final chapters for this story soon and the sequel is almost done. Remember, feedback feeds the muse and speeds up the whole process :)**

--------------------------------

Chapter 10

Brennan awoke to the worst hangover of her life. Except she didn't remember getting drunk or high.

_Hannah!_ She opened her eyes too quickly and although the artificial lighting was dimmed, her eyes still sent very painful signals of discomfort to her brain. "Ow," she moaned, closing her eyes again and letting her head drop.

"_Aufwachen!_" A male voice shouted at her. A hand pushed against a sore spot on her head, and she groaned.

"_Ich spreche nicht Deutsches!_" she protested in broken German, informing her captors, as well as she could, that she did not speak German. She was only fluent in English but she knew enough of at least 15 languages, and several dialects, to get her around the world; her head, however, was hurting too much to hold even a basic conversation in any other language.

"Very well, Dr. Brennan," a second man, wearing a corporate suit, spoke. Squinting, she was able to make him out as well as a third and fourth occupants. "Where is the child?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied. The feeling in her legs and arms was slowly returning in the shape of pins and needles. She could see she was properly restrained with heavy duty tape and it didn't take her long to figure that the chair she sat on was permanently fixed to the floor.

Something in German was said and before she could attempt to translate it, a fist connected with her jaw. "I wouldn't recommend lying to us, Dr. Brennan, you saw what happened to Hannah Oloff."

Her jaw throbbed, but she felt welcome adrenaline rushing through her veins. "You killed eighty people," she protested. "Entire families, reduced to burnt remains. You don't care about the truth."

"The lady has a valid point," the man conceded. "You are a smart woman. You know we have too much to lose by letting you live; but if you tell us where the child is, we won't go after your loved ones. How does that sound?"

_Nothing like a condescending bad guy._ "Tempting, but no. Because after you kill me, my friends will find out who you are, and you will go down."

The man let out a chilling laugh. He approached her and she got a good look into his empty eyes. "We'll just have to make sure they never find your remains," he threatened.

When he moved back, she saw a man walking towards her with some kind of surgical tray. "What are you doing?" she asked, even though she'd seen the autopsy report on Hannah Oloff.

"The first cuts aren't so bad, Dr. Brennan. We wouldn't want you to bleed to death too soon. Superficial cuts, then muscles, then tendons – if you're lucky, you'll be unconscious by the time we file your fingerprints off. But don't worry, we'll wake you up for the grand finale."

Her broken rib – possibly ribs - pushed against her diaphragm and kept her from struggling too much. A scalpel touched her thigh through her jeans, tapping the fabric slowly. She wished they would just do it, but she understood that making a victim beg for her life was the pinnacle of torture, and making her beg for her death was a close second. So she waited, unable to take a deep breath, unable to watch as the perverse scalpel traveled up to her stomach. The bald man yielding the instrument seemed to like the spot because he cut her there through her shirt, a mock replication of a c-section cut, though not nearly as deep. It didn't even touch the muscles there, but she felt the blood rushing to the area.

Her left forearm was next, a long superficial cut above her ulna; this guy must not be a doctor, because this time he nicked the muscle. She could tell it wasn't part of the plan, because as soon as her fingers contracted, he pulled back and looked towards the man with the empty eyes.

"Where is she, Dr. Brennan?"

"I don't know!" She shouted at the man as blood ran down her arm and onto her thigh. She feared for Hannah; she knew the child was safe, but what would happen to the infant if she died? At that moment, she realized she was completely in love with that baby, and she would do whatever possible to survive and give the child the best life she could.

Another blow to her head, this time her left eye. It swelled up instantly, and now she couldn't even cry.

"You're not going to get away with this!" she yelled.

"We'll see."


	12. Chapter 11

--------------------------------

Chapter 11

Booth and Max got out of the car they'd borrowed, circling the plant from a safe distance as the sun set. They separated, going on opposite directions around the perimeter.

They met up twenty minutes later, both gasping for air. "It's a big place," Booth offered. "No obvious security, which goes along with Hodgins' findings that the place officially shut down in '93."

Max nodded, grabbing his knees. "Why is there white smoke coming out of one of those chimneys then?"

"Keyword being officially," Booth explained. "What do you make of security?"

"Nothing outside, would probably make it too hard to keep so many people quiet about this place. My guess is just a few men inside, probably at the main entrance and wherever they're keeping her."

Booth nodded. "Do you see a back entrance?"

Max sighed. "Maybe. Follow me," he asked and Booth did.

xxx

They walked for fifteen minutes, the sound of water increasing in volume and intensity as they walked. As they reached a riverbank, Max pointed towards what looked like a cave – except black sludge was coming out of it. "It's a former chemical plant, I knew there had to be some pipe polluting the local water. And if it's a way out…"

"… then it must be a way in, as well." Booth finished the sentence. "So your plan is to get inside via their garbage shoot? If we end up in a room with moving walls, I'm gonna kill you."

Max smiled as he jumped down and started moving in the sludge. Booth followed, praying the sludge wasn't deadly or anything that caused infertility, cancer or boils. Definitely no boils.

It took twice as long for them to trek the same distance back, because the sludge was getting thicker as they moved, slowing them down considerably. It was up to their knees as they came up to an apparent dead end. The sludge was dripping from a pipe above their heads, with two hallways in each direction that seemed endless and barren.

Booth was about to give up, to tell Max they should head back and find another way in, when he heard the terrified scream; every fiber in his being recognized its origin. "Bones!" he reacted, moving in the darkness towards the sound.

"Slow down, Booth," Max hissed behind him. "If we can hear her, they could hear _us_."

"We need to find her," Booth argued, this time at a lower volume.

"I know that! But we need to stay alive long enough to do it."

* * *

**Feedback is love. Leave me a one-word review, anything :)**


	13. Chapter 12

**I realized that the cliffhanger for Chapter 11 was really mean, so I decided to post 12 today as well. Again, feedback makes me post faster, and hopefully will unlock my muse so I can finish the sequel to this story. Not to sound too beggy, but please review :)**

* * *

--------------------------------

Chapter 12

"I am a very patient man, but you are making me lose my patience, Doctor."

"Fuck you," Brennan gritted out, not sure if her use of bad language was due to the adrenaline or vice-versa. The feeling of the scalpel scraping against her rib was still there even though the blade was far from her body now. With her one good eye, she saw the bald man putting away his scalpel, picking up pliers from the tray.

"That's quite a mouth for a lady. We'll help you make some room in there, won't we?"

Brennan clamped her sore jaw shut, turning her face towards her shoulder, refusing to make it easier for them. She struggled against her bonds, ignoring the multiple protests that her cuts and bruises made to her already exhausted body.

A bandaged arm came and wrapped itself around her neck, pressing against her hyoid and she wondered how this goon could be so stupid as if to make the same mistake twice. She bit down again, swollen jaw making this bite less effective but the area must've been sore enough because the arm released her neck and she heard cries of pain behind her.

Her adrenaline-powered struggle managed to free her right leg, and she brought it up between the bald man's legs. As both hands moved to cup his injured parts, she raised her leg and kicked his stomach as hard as she could, sending him tumbling backwards.

"Don't shoot!" the man in the suit shouted as she saw three guns pointing at her.

The bald guy was apparently quite pissed, because he picked up the discarded scalpel and started charging towards her, and by his height and angle at which he was holding the scalpel, she calculated he was aiming at her right shoulder or upper right arm.

She wasn't sure what happened next, but the scalpel made contact with her outer thigh instead, the instrument barely grazing the skin. The bald man's face connected with her stomach, and she saw an exit wound above his left ear, undoubtedly made by a bullet.

Shots rang around her, and she closed her eyes tightly, wondering when her time would come. It wasn't enough to make her believe in a higher power, but for the first time she understood Booth's need to believe. She held her breath for what felt like an eternity, partly because she was afraid to exhale and partly because the dead man on her stomach was pressing against her injured ribs and a deep breath could cause the broken rib to perforate her diaphragm and lung.

The sound of bullets stopped, and she still kept her eyes closed.

"Bones!"

"Temperance!"

Was she dreaming? Opening the eye she could, she peered around the room, finally seeing Booth and… her father? How had they found her? Actually, she didn't care about it at the moment; she just wanted the dead man off her stomach. She tried to move him with her free leg but he was too heavy. Then the weight was gone and she looked up to see Booth's concerned eyes. A sob rocketed through her body, relief stronger than the pain it caused.

Her father stood guard at the door through which they must've come through, and Booth cut her bindings with a pocketknife.

"Come on," he said, reaching for her waist to lift her up. She let him pull her to her feet through the warnings of pain from her injuries, and she was surprised to find she could walk. His arm wrapped around her waist, moving away from her broken ribs when she winced.

"Take her down through where we came from," her father told Booth. "I'll be right there."

As they passed him, she noticed he was clutching his arm and blood was staining the sleeve. "Dad!"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Go with Booth, okay?"

She was too weak to protest, too disoriented to pay attention to the maze of corridors and then tunnels that Booth carried her through. She must've dozed off on his shoulder, because she felt a gentle shake. "Wake up, Temperance."

She cringed at the use of her first name. "I'm fine," she argued as she felt her eye closing again.

"No, I think you have a concussion, you need to stay awake!"

She pulled back to meet his eyes, wanting to say so much but unable to form a single word. Her gaze dropped to his lips. She felt an irrational need to taste his lips, even though her own lips were so swollen and sore that a kiss would probably be more painful than pleasurable. Her mental battle ended when her father found them, and she pulled away from the possible attempt at a kiss so fast that she felt dizzy. "Dad!"

"Hey, kiddo." Her father kissed what must've been the last unbruised spot on her forehead. "Listen, we have to get out of here, okay? Can you walk fast?"

She nodded, following the duo down a tunnel, barely feeling the black sludge against her calves. When they found water, she dropped to her knees, letting the muddy water wash away some of the blood. The sound of an explosion shook the ground and she looked back to see a building erupting in flames. She deduced it was the building she'd been kept in, and watching it go up was quite cathartic.

The urge to sleep was still great, so she let Booth guide her up the stream where the water was a little clearer and he splashed her face with some water. Her cuts were now protesting against the cleansing and she winced.

"Come on, let's get back to the car. We need to get you two to a hospital," Booth urged them.

She was too weak to ask any questions.


	14. Chapter 13

--------------------------------

Chapter 13

Booth knocked on the door to the now very familiar hospital room. Hannah's hands patted his cheeks in excitement from her position in his arms.

"Come in."

"Hey Bones, the Squintlet and I came to take you home. Well, temporary home," he explained, willing the flutter in his stomach to go away.

"Squintlet? Oh, you mean Hannah!" Bones grinned excitedly, reaching for the baby but Booth shook his head, knowing full well she would not be able to pick up or hold the baby for at least another week.

He studied her as she moved around the room, packing her laptop and the few belongings he had brought her over the past ten days. It had taken over one-hundred and twenty stitches to close all her wounds, and her concussion had caused enough concern that a neurologist had kept her in the ICU for three days. But the stitches were gone, the bruises were a soft shade of purple now, instead of the multicolor parade of previous days. Her broken rib and left arm were the only major concerns, and would possibly take some physical therapy, but back home.

There were bags under her eyes that had been gone a few days before. Max, as expected, had refused to get treated for his wound. Booth had spent every night at the hospital, at both the ICU and the recovery rooms, until Max and Russ left.

She had been doing better than expected even with the concussion, but she'd started having nightmares the night after he'd left. Not that she had admitted it to him, it had been a concerned nurse who had recommended psychological or psychiatric counsel, but Booth had persuaded the nurse not to press the issue with Brennan. He knew PTSD and, more importantly, he knew Bones – and he was sure that pushing her towards treatment before she understood what was happening to her, she would end up running.

"Angela said they filled you in over what they discovered about the Lienz chemical plant and the Drau Group?" He asked as she tied her hair up. She winced, and he imagined the painful pulling of her sore ribs and muscles were uncomfortable to say the least.

She turned to him and nodded. "Yeah, she said Jack's been working non-stop on finding out what happened to the Royal family, and that he's been turning in evidence anonymously to Interpol. The Drau Group was about to lose a lot of money."

Booth let Hannah grab his nose, kissing her little hand as she moved down his face. "They killed eighty people because they couldn't stand to lose a few million dollars?"

Brennan sighed. "Billions," she corrected him. "It wasn't just about the money; the new trade regulations would expose the company. Hodgins mentioned something about affiliation with the KGB and Serbia-Montenegro, plus the contracts with pharmaceutical companies for those trials in Africa I mentioned before. We're talking genocide here, Booth. These people didn't just kill eighty people over the past month; they've killed thousands over the past two decades. Jack also turned in evidence that Yuri Haan, the distant cousin who had been appointed to become the new Regent Prince of Liechtenstein was bought off by Drau."

"No wonder they really didn't want an orphan Princess showing up," Booth noted, smiling at Hannah.

Bones nodded. "The Parliament canceled his coronation date. They're voting on becoming a democratic republic, or annexation to Switzerland."

"Sounds like fun political stuff. Except not."

Bones smiled at him.

"By the way, I got the adoption papers filled out, but we need to talk about it first…"

"Are you going to ask me if I'm sure again, Booth?" She started walking towards him, stopping only when Hannah was within reach. "I know she's not in immediate danger anymore, but when I was in that place, I knew for sure I wanted to be her mother." Hannah jumped excitedly in his arms, wanting to be picked up by Bones.

"I know you're sure, Bones. I knew if you'd changed your mind you would've let me known earlier. You weren't the only one who's grown attached to Hannah… she has something special about her. I just wanted to tell you that I had Ulrich add me as a co-adoptive parent, and he'll process the paperwork with both our names – if that's okay with you."

He could see her confusion, the unvoiced questions and uncertainty of the whole plan. He hadn't been sure himself, but it hadn't taken long to make his decision.

"Listen, Bones, we're good partners and friends, right? While I wasn't sure when I first met you, after I saw you dealing with that foster kid, Shawn Cook, I knew you would make a great mother if you ever allowed yourself to accept the idea. I still believe that, the same way I believe every child should have a mother and father if possible. And I want to be Hannah's father," he finished, feeling incredibly self-conscious. As he'd spoken, his gaze had gone back and forth between his partner and Hannah. "Nothing has to change between us; we'll just be sharing custody."

There was still some shock in her expression, but he could also see her starting to rationalize every word he had said. "You've made up your mind on this," she stated.

He nodded.

After a minute that felt like forever, she met his eyes. "Anthropologically speaking, raising a child is often the work of an entire tribe or clan, in almost any group of primates," she added, rationalizing his actions and emotions. "It makes sense that you, as an alpha male, to decide to ensure her safety, both emotional and physical, after you formed an initial bond with her."

"So you agree?" He asked, resisting the urge to celebrate by finishing what Bones had been hinting at when her father interrupted them days earlier.

Her hand reached for Hannah's face, the back of her fingers caressing one very chubby cheek. Her eyes returned to his face and she smiled before nodding.

He smiled in return, relieved that she hadn't pulled away – figuratively or literally. The moment hung between them, before she finally gave in and turned in the direction of her packed belongings. They were both all too happy to be leaving the sterile environment of the hospital.

"Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" He asked and noticed she was keeping her head low and avoiding his eyes.

"You're the best father I know, and she deserves the best. Thank you."

He hoped she hadn't seen the sudden moisture buildup in his eyes.


	15. Epilogue

--------------------------------

Epilogue

_They were cutting her again, Y-incision style, and the man with the glasses was speaking into a recorder…_

_She was dead._

_The bastards had killed her!_

_She looked down and saw no flesh left on her right arm, just disconnected muscles and bones, long humerus, ulna and a shattered radius._

_The man kept cutting her, and she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, and couldn't feel her heart beating. She'd known nothing existed after death, but what if this was it? What if she was just going to lay there motionless as this man, this impersonation of evil cut her time and time again?_

"Bones!"

She opened her eyes to find Booth sitting on her bed, shaking her awake. It took her a minute to remember they were in Rome promoting her book after her publicist had insisted that she complete the book tour. And Booth… well, Booth was supposed to be sleeping on the couch in her hotel suite.

Her heart was beating extremely fast, in sharp contrast to her nightmare. Her chest couldn't catch up with her breathing, even with healed ribs.

"Are you okay?" Booth asked, reaching out to fix her hair, which she realized must be looking pretty awful.

She stared at him for a few seconds, still struggling to re-enter the waking world. "I—yeah, I think so. Did I wake you?"

He shook his head. "No, I was just tucking Hannah in when I heard you."

She didn't want to look at him, didn't want to meet his eyes for fear he would see how screwed up she felt. Instead she sat up on the bed closer to him and let his arms wrap around her, cocooning her from the man with glasses, protecting her from the sterile autopsy table.

"You wanna talk about it?"

She shook her head against his shoulder.

"Okay. Want me to stay here?"

Nodding, she pulled away, moving to the empty side of the bed. He crawled in with her, and she finally felt her breath and heartbeat slowing down. She didn't move closer to him; just feeling his proximity was soothing enough.

The nightmares were getting worse.

She was glad for the six-week leave she and Booth were taking when they returned home; she hoped it would be enough.

_fin_

* * *

**Notes: Thank you to all who read it this far! I am almost done writing the sequel, which will be called "Taming of the Squint." I should start posting soon, but the more feedback I get, the faster I'll post (wink, wink). **


	16. Sequel Posted

**Title:** **Taming of the Squint**  
**Author:** Alice J. Foster (a.k.a. shipperfey)

**Summary:** Booth and Bones, while adjusting to an unconventional family life, stumble onto a confusing and stressful case.

**Pairing(s):** Booth/Brennan

**Rating:** NC-17/M

**A/N:** This is the sequel to "Something Rotten"

* * *

**Sequel is now posted!**


End file.
